The Holiday

by Jane Green

  My favorites were the guys who came up with the catchy headlines like ‘Dragon Slayer Seeking Fair Maiden’; ‘Urban Cowboy Needs Pretty Philly’; ‘Sit on Santa’s Lap’; or the best, ‘Alien Recently Landed on Earth.’ Exactly what type of woman would respond to him?

  ‘If I can make one person smile, my day is complete,’ wrote Sam, a twenty-nine-year-old fitness instructor. Okay, Sam, it’s time to raise your expectations. Your day is complete if you make someone smile?! I was so appalled, I had to write back. And when I was done with Sam, I’d write to the others. I’d urge The Donald wannabe to get rid of his picture with the Miata. Football Guy would need to be told to let go of his past. Sure his days on the Lafayette High School Spartans were glorious, but it was time to grow up and develop a few things to say to women instead of copping out with the ‘silent-type’ crap.

  Dear Sam,

  I was intrigued by your profile on Single in the City. You seem innocuous enough, but I must say I found one of your self-characterizations quite off-putting. You say that if you make one person smile, your day is complete. Perhaps you should set higher expectations for yourself. Making one person smile really isn’t all that ambitious, is it? What if I found a cure for cancer, but on that same day, the other researchers were feeling grumpy, so no one smiled at me. Would that mean my day was incomplete? Further, why do you allow other people smiling or not smiling to define what kind of day you’re having? Find out who you are, Sam, and stop whoring yourself for smiles, trying to please the world and begging everyone to approve of you. Dare to be yourself, Sam. Underneath your candy-coated shell you may find someone truly worth smiling at.

  Sincerely,

  Prudence Malone

  Suddenly my Instant Message alert sounded. It was from an e-mail address I didn’t recognize. As I opened it, I realized that Prudence was getting her first online suitor.

  Dr Jay: Up late tonight, Prudence?

  It was a little obtrusive and spooky, but I was enjoying the low-stakes interactions the internet provided. I was safely hidden behind the safety of a computer terminal and my husband’s ex-wife’s name.

  Prudence: Who wants to know?

  Dr Jay: I was up reading profiles and yours jumped out at me.

  Prudence: It’s only half finished.

  Dr Jay: I noticed. Should that tell me something about you?

  What did that mean? Was he accusing me of being half-assed about my profile? Was he trying to be clever?

  Prudence: I think we’re all half finished, so I wanted my profile to reflect my deep sense of incompletion.

  There, that’ll show this Dr Jay fellow that he’s not the only one who can be obscure.

  Dr Jay: I like that. Why the deep sense of incompletion, though? Are you always this depressing?

  I laughed.

  Prudence: I don’t think it’s depressing to have an awareness that we’re all projects in the works. If we all felt fulfilled and complete, how could the therapists of Manhattan afford to stuff their children’s Christmas stockings with useless crap this season?

  Dr Jay: You’re clever, Prudence. Dark as the night, but I like you.

  Internet men. You rattle off a few downers and they love you for it. Still, it was nice to chat behind the shield of my terminal.

  Prudence: I’m not sleeping with you so don’t get any ideas.

  Dr Jay: Why so crabby?

  Good question. Why so crabby during the most wonderful time of the year? I wouldn’t even characterize it as crabby. I was downright furious at people I didn’t even know. Poor Sam would wake up tomorrow morning and read my vicious invective. Why was I feeling threatened by an ex-wife who wasn’t even a presence in my life? Why was I fascinated by how Sophie just walked out on her alcoholic husband? Why was I cursing like Lenny Bruce? Why was I surfing the internet talking to strange men when I had a wonderful husband sleeping in the next room? To any observer, my life appeared to be more together than it has since Rudy died. I have a great new husband who’s a wonderful father to my son. My career is thriving. I have no financial woes. Why do I feel as though I’m coming apart at the seams?

  Prudence: I’m not sure.

  Dr Jay: Tell me about yourself. I see you’re thirty-two years old and living on the upper West Side. Says you’re an artist, but you left out the part about your past relationships. You stopped filling out the survey when it asked if you’ve ever been married. Do you mind if I ask why?

  I thought the internet was swarming with perverts. I got a guy who likes to talk about my feelings and wants to know about my past relationships.

  Prudence: Are you a woman?

  Dr Jay: Why would you ask that?

  Prudence: Are you?

  Dr Jay: No, I’m as man as they come.

  Okay, here it comes. He’s sporting a fire hose. He regularly pleasures women with five-hour Tantralectric orgasms. He and Hef pal around on his thirty-foot yacht.

  Prudence: Why the interest in my ex-husband?

  Dr Jay: So there is an ex-husband? I thought so. Tell me about him. Any kids?

  Prudence: My husband was killed in a car crash while driving drunk with his mistress. That was my son’s first Christmas. They just don’t have good stickers for that in the scrap-booking section at the crafts store, so my ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ album just isn’t all it should be.

  Dr Jay: Wow, that’s tough. How’d you deal with it?

  Prudence: What do you mean?

  Dr Jay: That’s very traumatic, Prudence. How did you deal with the loss? How did you grieve?

  Shit! I forgot I was supposed to be Prudence!!!

  Prudence: What kind of doctor are you anyway, a therapist?

  Dr Jay: I am. You’re avoiding the question.

  Prudence: If I wanted a therapist, I would’ve signed on to Psychointhecity.com.

  Dr Jay: I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped, Prudence. Has anyone ever told you that you’re very good at avoiding difficult subjects?

  Prudence: It’s not a difficult subject. How did I deal with it? I thanked God he didn’t injure any innocent people, buried him, cashed a life insurance check, and moved on.

  Dr Jay: Didn’t you mourn at all?

  Prudence: I wouldn’t give that louse the satisfaction.

  Dr Jay: What about you?

  Prudence: What about me?

  Dr Jay: Don’t you deserve the chance to process that whole ordeal?

  Prudence: I’m not into that. Sorry if that offends your psychoanalytical sensibilities, but I think the best way to deal with a situation like this is to move on and spend as little time dwelling on the past as possible.

  Dr Jay: Prudence, I’d like to meet you for coffee. Are you free sometime this week?

  My heart began to pound so hard I felt the pulsating in my ears. I knew that some men would want to meet me – to meet Prudence, that is – but I hadn’t yet thought out how I’d manage this. I guess if they seem like a good fit, coffee would be an acceptable first date. But this Dr Jay guy was not a good candidate.

  Too nosy.

  Too pushy.

  He was treating me more like a patient than a prospective girlfriend. I don’t like people who presume they have a right to know intimate details of my life simply because we’ve met. Or in the case of Dr Jay, simply because we’ve chatted online.

  Prudence: Sorry, Jay, I’m not free. I’m shackled by the unprocessed grief from my past.

  Dr Jay: I know you’re being sarcastic, but I also think your assessment is right on.

  Prudence: I happen to think you have a lot of nerve. You know nothing about me, and in ten minutes you act as though you’ve got me all figured out. There’s a lot more to me than being the widow of a philandering drunk.

  Dr Jay: Tell me more then.

  Prudence: Ugggh! I can just see you there in your leather chair, smoking a pipe, thinking you are just soooooo insightful. Let me tell you something, buddy. Your analysis is pitifully shallow and way off the mark. They should take away your license, you
quack!

  Dr Jay: Prudence, when did you become so angry?

  About thirty-six hours ago, I did not type. My fantasy man turned into a nightmare. Sophie makes leaving a wretched marriage seem so easy I wondered why I hadn’t done it. My best friend finds Sophie Come Lately endlessly more interesting than she ever found me. And Prudence is finally pursuing the art she’s always dreamt of while I toil away at my passionless career. Put this on top of the fact that I was teetering dangerously on the edge of reason prior to my drunken luncheon, and I think I have every right to be a tad miffed Doctor Know Nothing!

  Prudence: I am not angry. I’m only sorry I wasted time chatting with a loser like you. Good night, Dr Jay.

  Dr Jay: Good night, Prudence. Would it be okay if I IMed you again?

  Prudence: Suit yourself.

  When I looked at my clock, I realized I’d spent far too long chatting with Dr Jay. It was time to focus. I would spend no more than three minutes with candidates. If they didn’t seem like a good match for Prudence, I wouldn’t waste an extra second on them. I had only ten days until the New Year. It was time to be a mercenary matchmaker.

  I decided to call Gwen and see how her night with Prudence and Sophie went. When I got her answering machine, I tried her cell phone. I heard background noise that sounded like a premature celebration of the New Year. It was a wall of laughter. ‘Oh, hi there,’ Gwen said, sounding secretive about talking to me. ‘I’m out with some friends right now. Can I call you back?’

  ‘Are you with her?’ I asked.

  ‘That is correct,’ Gwen said, in a stilted voice. She’d make a terrible spy.

  ‘What’s she like? Does she seem fabulously happy?’ I asked.

  ‘We all are,’ Gwen said, giggling.

  ‘I don’t mean right this second. I mean in general.’

  ‘Oh, yes, definitely,’ Gwen said. ‘The weather is beautiful here in New York, Mom.’

  ‘You sound too obvious, Gwen! Stop talking like a robot.’

  ‘I’ll call you later, Mom. Say “hi” to Dad for me, okay?’

  My head fell onto my desk. Tears soaked into my sleeve and I fell asleep for a moment at my desk.

  Soon I was screaming horror-movie cries of terror from the window of a burning building that was not my home. ‘Help me!’ I shouted as flames lunged behind me. The heat wrapped around my body, increasing in temperature as my screams increased in volume. I was certain I was going to die. Finally a man with curly hair and a strong nose appeared on the sidewalk. He wore a tweed jacket and held a yellow legal pad and gold pen. I knew it was Dr Jay.

  ‘Why so angry, Prudence?’ he shouted up to me.

  ‘I’m not Prudence and I am not angry!’ I cried. ‘I’m burning alive in here! Help me, Jay!’ I wept.

  ‘It’s time to come to terms with who and what you really are,’ he answered calmly.

  ‘Are you out of your mind, fuckwit!’ I shouted, still weeping. ‘I’m going to die in here!’

  ‘There never seems to be time, does there, Prudence?’ He shook his head with pity and contempt.

  I heard the sirens of a fire truck and felt momentary relief. Until I realized that it wasn’t slowing. From the passenger side, a topless firefighter smiled and tipped his hat to me. ‘No one can hear your screams in space, Prudence!’

  Were they all really going to just let me die up here?

  My eyes shot open as I heard Reilly speak my name at the door. ‘Y’okay, hon?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine,’ I said quicker than the knee reacts to a hammer tap.

  ‘You were crying in your sleep, hon. I’m worried about you.’

  ‘I’m tired. This is how I get when I need sleep,’ I explained.

  ‘You must be awfully tired. Why don’t you come to bed?’

  As I heard Reilly drift into sleep, I tried to refocus on finding a new guy for Prudence. Dr Jay was an annoying distraction. I promised myself I would quickly dismiss him.

  The next morning, I was stunned to see how many responses Prudence’s profile had generated. I was a bit jealous that between midnight and 8 A.M., sixty-seven men had made contact with Prudence despite her half-assed attempt at a character profile and mediocre photo. I wondered if I would’ve fared as well.

  Sam wrote back to tell me I was a total bitch for thinking his ‘smile and complete me’ line was weak. He was pleased to report that he was getting an overwhelming response to his ad, thank you very much. For a moment, I contemplated writing a fake profile just to see how many responses it would generate. ‘Breathing, warm body, not ugly, bites only when provoked.’

  Chiming in during vampire hours was Randy who liked taking Jell-O baths with women. ‘I hope this doesn’t come across as perverted or anything weird like that, but I like to be real honest about my preferences, so there are no surprises when we get into things. I definitely like the tangy flavor of the citrus. Lime is my favorite, but some of my lady friends have said the lemon is better. These are merely suggestions.’ Oh, no, Randy, this doesn’t seem weird or perverted in the slightest.

  There was Todd who wrote that I, rather Prudence, was ‘quite attractive,’ but wanted to be sure she had no tattoos. ‘On someone with whom I am not considering a long-term relationship I could overlook a small, discreetly placed tattoo provided it were a flower or a heart, but would rule out anyone who wore skulls or Chinese writing. I must be up front about the fact that any tattoo on a woman would seriously jeopardize her candidacy as the potential mother of my children.’ The nerve! Who was campaigning to be the mother of his children?! And why was my tattoo status so important to this guy that it was the very first thing he wanted to discuss? Had his former girlfriend needled, ‘I’m with asshole!’ onto her lower back – in Chinese?

  Morton described himself as a ‘teddy bear,’ which invariably means a lot of stuffing.

  Peter said he was incredibly masculine despite his penchant for dressing in women’s underwear. His picture was unconvincing. Peter’s harplike ribs protruded above a hairy curtain of stomach, and his panties were so last season.

  Omar wore a short top hat and black cape, which made him look like he was either a magician or something out of turn-of-last-century New York.

  Tim posed winking at his high-gloss grand piano with the opening line, ‘I’m a player.’ At least he didn’t write, ‘Let’s make music.’ Scratch that, it was the fourth line.

  Frank said he wanted a chill partner, then went on to describe himself as a ‘blissful, contemplative psychic who enjoys moonlit walks on the beach and gentle lovemaking.’ Translation: Self-important, patchouli-smelling granola boy whose idea of foreplay includes hair brushing and foot massage.

  The sex metaphors were endless. Mark said he wanted to navigate his ship into my port. Fred had the key to my lock. And the worst – Larry who said he sees the entire doughnut, not just the hole.

  When did people become so nonchalant about sex that they discussed it in introductory e-mails? I pondered the lasciviousness of my peers, wondering if I’d ever passed one of these lonely souls on the streets. I must see the faces of at least a hundred men every day. Most of them appear relatively normal, but among this group were panty-wearing, tattoo-phobic freaks who just want to chill in a tub of lime Jell-O. But look who was talking. Here I was pretending to be my husband’s ex-wife sniping at men on the internet while trying to find her a new love.

  Joey’s response was bizarrely hostile considering we had no interaction. ‘Get to no me before you judge me, because if your not intristed and you didn’t give me a chance then screw you anyhows! I’m not looking for a goddamn penpal neither so if your not willing to step it up than don’t waste my time. I’m a verry busy man and I have a lot going for me and if you’re the write girl, I could be the best friggin’ thing that ever happned to you, so how do you know if you don’t even try?’

  The phone saved me from responding to another Guido who started his reply to me with ‘Not for nothin’.’

  It was Gwen. ‘Sarah, s
he’s fantastic,’ she launched.

  ‘Who is?’ I asked.

  ‘Who do you think?! Whom did I spend last night with?’ Gwen reminded me that she’d been to Prudence’s art show at a gallery in SoHo. ‘She’s so talented, Sarah. You should see what this woman can do with a few hundred feet of silver wire. It’s exquisite. I bought one myself and one for my parents. By the way, is your editor, Zach, at the Journal still single?’ She was bouncing from one topic to the next like a game of four-wall handball. ‘It’s no wonder she hasn’t met anyone since she and Reilly split. There were eighty women and about twenty men at her show – two of them straight. Anyway, I met this gorgeous woman, Perla, who just moved from Miami and she would be perfect for Zach. Can I get his number from you?’

  ‘Slow down, Gwen. Tell me about Prudence. When you told her that you know Reilly, did she ask about him? Did she seem interested?’

  ‘I didn’t mention Reilly,’ Gwen said. ‘We were having such fun. This was her first show and I can’t tell you how well her sculptures were received. She completely sold out. She took orders for several more and said she’s going to have to work straight through till Christmas to fill them all. I was so lucky we got there early.’

  ‘Okay, I get it, Gwen. Prudence is a goddamned genius with a spool of wire. But didn’t you even mention Reilly – or me?’

  ‘Sarah, you said they ran into each other at Rockefeller Center just a few days ago. If she wanted to know anything about him, she would’ve just asked him then and there.’

  ‘In front of my son?!’ I shouted. ‘Does this woman have no respect for my marriage?!’

  Gwen laughed. ‘Calm down. Prudence is a doll. She’s not after Reilly, but I do think we should find her a man. Such a beautiful woman going to waste like that.’

  ‘Gwen!’ I gasped.

  ‘What?!’ she asked.

  ‘A single woman isn’t a waste. You’re single! There are a million single women in this city.’

  ‘All of whom would rather be with someone, believe you me.’

  ‘Gwen, I’m sure not all of them want to be with a man,’ I said. ‘Aren’t you happy being single?’